He knew Cassandra for seven days
Met her in the sixties heydays
Their love was immediate and true
He knew he’d met his soulmate
They spent seven glorious days together,
Had fallen totally in love,
Every day a heavenly day.
Until they took LSD and she went loopy,
Started screaming and acting crazy
And was rushed to a hospital’s psych ward.
He never saw her after that.
Her family shipped her off somewhere
And hid the location from him.
Now all he has are memories of those
Seven glorious days of his greatest love.
And every day and every night
He keeps believing someday
She’ll come back to him.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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